


There's a Flood Coming Soon

by LikeSatellites



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: 2 bros in a hot tub chillin 5 ft apart bc they're not gay, 69 (Sex Position), Friends to Lovers, M/M, except they are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 06:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeSatellites/pseuds/LikeSatellites
Summary: This is literally: Two bros,chilling in the hot tub, five feet apart cause they’re not gayexcept, surprise, they are.And they are Kim Wonshik and Lee Hongbin.





	There's a Flood Coming Soon

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble and then it got away from me and became long and stupid and it is terrible i'm SORRY i literally did not edit this at all i just needed to write it so here it is  
> also this is for my friends on tlist i won't say your names just in case  
> everyone follow me on twitter tho i'm @likesatellitez

 

“Do we really gotta be naked though,” Wonshik asks for the tenth time, as they’re lead down the little stone path towards the bath house. 

Hakyeon has thrust all their bags into Sanghyuk’s arms since he has the largest surface area and probably mass and is the runt. Sanghyuk is trailing behind them, panting like an ox, after having to navigate the massive hill that lead to where the Sentō sits, perched quaintly at the top. The facade is mainly cast in shadow from the lurching apartment complexes around it, but Wonshik can see the building is probably older than anything he’s ever been inside, with light clay roof tiles and lots of dark natural wood. The air smells like clean steam and bamboo. 

“We’ve all seen each other naked,” Jaehwan replies, following Hakyeon up the front steps and through the entrance. “We’ve been in changing rooms and locker rooms and dorm rooms and practice rooms and everybody knows what your dick looks like, so chill.”

Wonshik huffs and drops his own backpack down beside the wall of shelves for their shoes. He feels reluctant to part with his rather expensive Nikes, but Hakyeon turns briefly to glare at him until he slips them into one of the little slots beside Taekwoon’s old grandpa leather loafers. 

The bath house is, as their manager assured them, empty of any other tourists. Considering it’s a Wednesday at 3 pm in Tokyo, Wonshik doesn’t find this surprising. 

Hongbin shoves Wonshik’s Nikes back as far as the slot goes, and Wonshik is about to screech, he can feel the sound burbling up in his gut, but then Hongbin slips his converse high tops in front. 

“No one will touch your shoes with my ugly ass shoes here,” Hongbin says, smiling in that way that makes Wonshik feel like he’s swallowed a bucket full of marbles, and they’re all tumbling around in his pharynx and stomach and intestines. 

“Thank,” Wonshik manages, before Hakyeon grabs him by the sleeve to make him bow politely to the kind old man who has agreed to put down his newspaper and show them around the building. 

“You have your own rooms,” the old man says, gesturing to little gated entryways lining the dark hallway. “I will give you the keys, so just remember to lock the...well, the house is vacant right now, so no one will steal your stuff, but you may want to lock up just in case. I don’t know what you plan on doing in there.” 

The man casts a leery gaze at Wonshik and then continues shuffling down the hall. 

Jaehwan stifles a giggle behind his palm, and Sanghyuk prods him to follow for the rest of the tour. 

“There isn’t much else here,” the man says, pushing back a heavy black curtain. “This is the bath part. Take all your clothes off here,” he adds, gesturing to the wall of wooden lockers, “and use your privacy towel if you want, but no large towels in the bath please. And no clothes. We normally have a no tattoo rule,” he grumbles, shifting his slitted gaze back to Wonshik and his exposed forearms, “but your manager explained that  _ some _ of you have been corrupted by hip hops, so I’ve relented.”

Wonshik grunts and shuffles behind Sanghyuk, gripping onto his sweat-logged t-shirt. “I’m corrupt,” he hisses. 

Sanghyuk nods and then follows through the sliding door into the steam. Wonshik trails after him, still gripping his shirt, and the steam immediately fogs up his fake spectacles. Well, glasses, but Jaehwan has taken to calling them spectacles because they’re god awful gigantic wire-frame contraptions.

“Your robes are hanging in the lockers, along with your towels, so I’ll leave you here. Please, for the love of...just, please, be sure to wash thoroughly before you get into my bath,” the man says, pointing a stern finger at the little plastic stools  sitting in front of the wall of faucets. “We have soap. We have sensitive skin soap. We have a lot of soap. Just use it.”

They follow him back into the changing room, where he continues glaring at Wonshik where he’s pressed up behind Sanghyuk’s back. “I have five stars on Yelp, so please don’t ruin my bath house.”

Wonshik whimpers and snuffles against Sanghyuk’s shoulder. 

Sanghyuk shoves him back once the old man is safely through the curtain and down the hall, his shuffling footsteps no longer echoing in every room. Wonshik stands stock still in the center of the changing room as his bandmates begin tugging down their jeans and hanging their button-downs in the tiny lockers. 

And then there is a lot of skin, and Wonshik feels the urge to cover up, even though he’s the one wearing all the clothing. Hakyeon and his endless reel of bronzed skin, marches past Wonshik into the steamy bath room, and Wonshik notes he has not brought the privacy towel. 

“All the good this thing does, eh?” Jaehwan asks, holding the 5 inch by 6 inch piece of terry cloth towel up to his face. 

“It’s for your dick, dumbass,” Sanghyuk replies, grabbing the towel and draping it delicately over Jaehwan’s dick, where it rests for a brief second before fluttering to the ground. 

“It’s not a coat rack,” Jaehwan protests, following Sanghyuk into the bath room.

Wonshik looks to Taekwoon.  If there is anyone here who would understand Wonshik’s discomfort, it would be Taekwoon, right? 

Taekwoon, with a fistful of bobby pins, is meticulously pinning back his bangs to shield them from the humid steam and hot water. Once he’s satisfied with the neat row of black clips, Taekwoon steps through the sliding door, no privacy towel in sight. 

Hongbin, struggling with his skinny lightwash jeans, hobbles over to grip the door of one of the lockers. 

“Fucking legs are so sticky,” Hongbin mutters, and Wonshik is transfixed by the sight of Hongbin’s jeans pulled down to his sharp, prominent hip bones, glistening with sweat. 

“Fucking legs,” Wonshik repeats. 

“Can you just…” Hongbin asks, trying to shake his legs to shift the denim from where it has fused to his legs. Wonshik cannot blame the denim for its decision. “From my ankles? Just yank at it a little?”

Wonshik coughs, breathing in heapfuls of warm, heady wood-scented steam. Kneeling in front of Hongbin, Wonshik grabs at the thick pale blue fabric and weakly begins tugging. 

“No, really yank at it, man. It’s not budging. You may have to cut me out of these,” Hongbin says, laughing. Wonshik pictures for a moment biting at the denim and ripping it up the seams to expose Hongbin’s soft pale skin to his li--

Wonshik yanks so hard that Hongbin topples backward, landing with a hard thud on his tailbone. Wonshik looks down at his hands, where he is now holding the wad of Hongbin’s sweaty jeans. 

“Damn. You really took those netizen comments about being scrawny to heart,” Hongbin teases, dropping his now-removed t-shirt and socks and boxers into the locker. He reaches to grab his jeans back from Wonshik, but Wonshik’s grip tightens around the denim. “I have to put them away, you know. Unless you want to trade pants, but I’m pretty sure you’re thinner than me now.”

Wonshik throws Hongbin’s jeans at his face. “I’m not thin, I’m  _ lean _ , and I could totally wreck you.”

Hongbin shuts his locker behind him and waves his privacy towel at Wonshik. “Okay, okay, I concede. You’re not thin. You’re a regular fuckin’ muscle daddy.”

Wonshik’s cheeks burn, and he ducks behind the door of his locker. “Just get in the tub, you filth monster.”

Filth...monster? Fucking hell, Wonshik, can you be a real fucking human for one goddamn second? 

Hongbin doesn’t seem to have heard, because he walks off without a snippy remark, leaving Wonshik alone in the changing room. 

Stripping himself naked alone is easier, but it’s the  _ not putting on any new clothes _ thing that freaks him out. Normally it’s  _ oh, sweatpants off, stageclothes on _ or  _ stageclothes off, pajamas on _ . Not...everything off. Into pool of hot water with all of best friends/bandmates.

“Wonshik, I swear to god, if you are doing pushups to make yourself look buffer, I’m going to make you sleep outside,” Hakyeon calls through the sliding doorway. “With the ghosts.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Wonshik spits, but now he’s picturing his naked corpse being ravaged by ghost foxes and wolves, and his mom would not love to read about that in the paper at all. He grabs his privacy towel and daintily clutches it over his cock. 

Hakyeon is lounging over Taekwoon’s lap, his dark kneecaps peeking out of the water. Taekwoon is glancing over at the open window, where cool night air is gently filtering out some of the steam. 

Sanghyuk and Jaehwan are splashing each other, each wincing and gasping as the hot water hits their faces, as if they keep forgetting the temperature of the water before it hits them again. 

“This is supposed to be relaxing,” Hakyeon huffs, flicking water at the both of them. 

Wonshik grabs a plastic stool two stools down from Hongbin’s. Hongbin has the tap running, and is lifting the bucket of cool water over his head to rinse off all the suds he’s lathered over himself. Wonshik watches the water streaming in rivulets down between Hongbin’s shoulder blades, over the dimples at his lower back, and between the crack of his ass.

Wonshik quickly glances away and rubs the bar of soap in rapid motions over his body. 

“Don’t forget behind your ears,” Hakyeon coos, pretending to scrub behind Taekwoon’s ears. Taekwoon swats at his hand, but Hakyeon just moves to working his fingers through the wet strands of hair at the base of Taekwoon’s neck, and Taekwoon gives up, eyes slitting shut.

Wonshik has always been jealous of the easy way Hakyeon interacts with everyone. People complain, but Hakyeon never seems to mind, just going forward with whatever urge he has at the time. 

Wonshik wants to reach out and touch, quite often, actually. It’s easy with Jaehwan because Jaehwan will accept any and all attention, eager and waiting for it like a pigeon seeking a dropped hot dog bun. 

Hongbin drops a bucket of ice water over Wonshik’s head, and Wonshik emits a terrorized squeal, jumping up to defend himself. Hongbin has already entered the bath by the time Wonshik has grabbed his privacy towel and stood.

Wonshik slides into the water quickly, grabbing a spot next to Sanghyuk, whose chest and neck and face are bright red. 

“Hey, Hyukkie, you’re not lookin’ too great,” Wonshik says, gently poking at Sanghyuk’s shoulder, where the skin is red and blotchy. 

Sanghyuk moves to stand, but ends up swaying in place like a skyscraper caught in a strong breeze. Jaehwan and Hakyeon quickly jump up, water splashing over the sides of the tub, in their haste to grab Sanghyuk’s arms to keep him from toppling over, and Sanghyuk goes limp in their arms. 

Taekwoon seems to realize what’s happened, and moves to grab Sanghyuk’s legs as Hakyeon and Jaehwan dredge him out of the water. 

“Stay here,” Hakyeon says, throwing Sanghyuk’s arm over his shoulder, with Jaehwan on the other side, and Taekwoon struggling to hold Sanghyuk’s massive legs, his back bowed with all the added weight.

“But why should w--”

“Stay. Here,” Hakyeon grits out, and the screen door slams behind them.

Hongbin is analyzing his cuticles when Wonshik turns back around, suddenly remembering that he’s bare-assed naked in front of Hongbin.

“Sometimes he still acts like such a baby,” Hongbin says, lifting his gaze, and Wonshik is held there, staring at him and the way the setting sun looks on his sharp jaw and soft hair.

“Is passing out a baby thing?” 

Hongbin laughs, and then Wonshik is aware of the fact that there is only like three feet between himself and Hongbin in the water. 

Wonshik shifts to the left in the tub, pretending to look out the open window, hoping to put another two feet between their naked, wet bodies. Five feet is a safe distance.

“Do you ever miss the time before all of our solo activities?” Hongbin asks, and Wonshik grips the edge of the tub tightly with wrinkled fingers and doesn’t turn around.

“What do you mean? Like right after debut?”

“Like when we were all always together. I feel like time has gone by absurdly fast, and Sanghyuk is now a handsome, manly giant and Hakyeon has dramas and you have your composing and solo mixtapes and Taekwoon and Jaehwan have their musicals, and I--”

“And you’re in your webdrama and modeling and putting us all to shame with your popularity,” Wonshik finishes, tasting that awful thick guilt that sometimes coats the roof of his mouth like peanut butter. “Of course I miss being together. But I don’t miss being trapped in practice rooms and the gym and fighting for rookie spots on variety shows. I don’t miss having to act like our stage personas.”

“But you miss us, right?” 

Wonshik doesn’t want to turn around. There’s something heavy in Hongbin’s voice that makes Wonshik’s insides rattle in warning like his kidneys were full of dry beans. 

“You wanna have this talk now? In a tub of musky man-water? While we’re nude?” 

Hongbin reaches out and touches Wonshik’s shoulder. Wonshik wants to drop beneath the surface of the water to hide, but he also doesn’t want to end up like Sanghyuk (a boiled potato), nor would that put any distance between him and Hongbin’s naked flesh.

“We’re alone, aren’t we?” 

Wonshik really wishes that weren’t a  _ positive _ in this situation, to Hongbin. Is Hongbin really that comfortable that he is  _ glad _ they are  _ alone _ and  _ naked  _ in a steamy bath  _ together _ ?

“You were my best friend then,” Hongbin says.

Wonshik finally forces himself to turn around, and Hongbin is standing in the water, chest smooth and dripping, with his privacy towel draped over his frizzy hair. There are droplets of water beaded on his chin and jawline. 

“What do you mean ‘were?’” Wonshik croaks, scrambling to grab his privacy towel after realizing it had sank to the bench beneath the water. 

“Wonshik, really,” Hongbin scoffs, kicking at the floating scrap of terry cloth beneath the water, pushing it to the other side of the tub, where it sinks to the bottom. “Look at me.”

Wonshik shakes his head, staring down at the water, seeing the distorted image of his legs beneath its meniscus. It looks like Wonshik’s body splits at his thighs. 

“I know you’ve been working hard. Harder than any of us. You lock yourself in that studio and don’t eat or sleep or call your family or even text us back when we check in. We used to be so close, and now I never see you.”

Wonshik nips at the dry skin of his bottom lip. 

“Everyone else was off doing things,” Wonshik replies finally. “I wanted to contribute. I wanted to not just be Vixx’s idol rapper. And it was killing me that...that the music never let Sanghyuk shine. Or you. I wanted it to be about us.”

“But in doing so...you’ve distanced yourse--”

“It’s because you guys are everything,” Wonshik croaks, dropping into a squat in the water, covering his face in shame. “It’s so hard when you’re all away, and then we come back for group promotions, and I’m just idol rapper Ravi again and you’re just pretty face Hongbin and then we separate again. I just wanted to make our comebacks meaningful. And I wanted to seem like I contribute.”

Hongbin drops down in the water beside him and snakes an arm around his back. His skin is soft and slick, and droplets of water tickle down Wonshik’s spine.

“I’m happy that you’re doing what you love,” Hongbin says, dropping his forehead to Wonshik’s wet shoulder. 

“This is really gay,” Wonshik groans, eyes on the water, just now realizing that their bare thighs are touching, and Hongbin’s cock is floating really fucking close to his own under the water. 

“Wonshik,” Hongbin sighs. 

“What? I’m not saying that in a bad way, obviously,” Wonshik replies. “We’re just two bros in a hot tub chillin cause we’re not gay.”

“Wonshik,” Hongbin sighs again, more exasperated this time. “Look at me.”

Wonshik does not want to. He does not want to look at Hongbin. He feels that if he looks at Hongbin he will remember they are not five feet apart and that Hongbin’s chest is so pale and shiny and dewy and the ridges of his abdominal muscles are so sharp and lovely and Wonshik could just trace them with his tongue and he bets it would taste like Hongbin like something sweet and sharp like yuzu.

He looks up.

Hongbin takes his face in his hands, and everything is dripping and hot, and Wonshik’s face is on fire, and his body is on fire.

“Okay we can be best friends again,” Wonshik begs.

“And,” Hongbin prompts, leaning in.

“And I won’t work as hard and I’ll eat more and sleep more, and I’ll come back to the dorm and I’ll text you all back and I’ll call my parents.”

“And.” Hongbin leans in closer, and there is a droplet of water hanging off his cupid’s bow that glistens.

“And I don’t know? And I’m sorry I said this was gay?”

Hongbin rolls his eyes and touches their noses together, and his privacy towel slips down over their faces and into the water. 

Wonshik pulls back. “I feel like I’m going to Hyuk and pass out.”

“Oh please make that a thing,” Hongbin claps. “Hyuking, as in, to be a weak baby.”

“Please remember he is literally enormous,” Wonshik says.

“Share a room with me,” Hongbin says.

“As best friends?”

Hongbin pulls him from the tub with an urgent hand holding his own.

 

The old man gave Hakyeon three sets of keys for their individual gated rooms in the bath house. The gates led to another set of lockable sliding wood and paper doors, and then another set of sliding wood and paper doors. 

Hongbin unfolds their soft white cots and lays them side by side on the floor. 

Wonshik reaches for his heavier navy robes from the table, but Hongbin clears his throat loudly.

“You don’t need them.”

Wonshik is perplexed again. He is only wearing the light cream-colored under-robe that he’d hastily thrown on after the bath, since Hongbin had dragged him to their room before he could fully dress.

“It’s ceremonia--”

“You don’t,” Hongbin repeats, drawing his own robe open, “need them.”

Wonshik feels like he has dove back into the bath headfirst and also the water is a pit of fire and also the fire is inside him and it tickles a little but mostly makes his dick twinge.

Hongbin lays back on the cot, and Wonshik can see every inch of him in the yellowish dim lighting of the lanterns lit around their room. Wonshik can not ever remember feeling this nervous. Not his Jellyfish audition. Not his first live performance. Not even the time their dance coach caught him masturbating in the practice room after hours because there was no where else to be alone.

“Well?”

Wonshik drops to his knees. Crawls across his own cot to place his fingers tentatively on Hongbin’s ankles, his shins, his knees with his sweet pale kneecaps, his thighs, with all of him so soft and smooth and sweet smelling like bamboo water and soap. 

“Is this why you’re mad at me?” 

Hongbin tilts his head. “What? Because you didn’t realize I wanted to fuck?”

Wonshik chokes, turning his face away to compose himself before replying, “I suppose, yes.”

“I mean, we can start with you not even realizing I wanted to kiss,” Hongbin replies, tapping his lips. 

Wonshik draws closer, straddling Hongbin’s body, and leans down to press their lips together. 

Hongbin arches up beneath him and tugs at Wonshik’s robes to drape them down Wonshik’s back and onto the cot behind him. 

“More,” Hongbin breathes, nipping at Wonshik’s lower lip. 

“I forgot how demanding you are,” Wonshik says, holding Hongbin by the hair and kissing him again and again, slowly and deeply until Hongbin is hard against Wonshik’s thigh and Wonshik is harder than he can remember ever being (and he was once fifteen). 

“We don’t have any…uh...gay stuff?”

Hongbin groans and bites at Wonshik’s throat. “Stop calling it that. We’re two bros naked and making out who care about each other a lot, and it needs no label because I know one would freak you out.”

“But how do we do the do?” 

Hongbin grabs Wonshik by the thighs and tugs, guiding him until he flips around, now face-to-dick with Hongbin’s...dick.

“You do know what to do, right?”

Wonshik scoffs. “As if I haven’t pictured sucking your dick before, please.”

Ah, shit.

“Well, I’ll keep note of that tidbit,” Hongbin replies, before flicking his tongue over the head of Wonshik’s cock.

“Oh, well that’s better than imagined.”

Wonshik can barely focus. His body is burning up, shaking, his left arm barely able to support him as he grips Hongbin’s cock in his right hand and strokes. 

He can feel when Hongbin jerks beneath him, can feel how his lips contract, and his tongue quivers beneath Wonshik’s skin in his mouth. 

Wonshik feels his hips begin to rock, pushing himself deeper in Hongbin’s throat, but Hongbin takes it so well that Wonshik feels a stab of jealousy. Not because he’s wondering who Hongbin has been deepthroating but because he has only a few inches of Hongbin in his mouth, but he feels his throat rebelling. 

Hongbin circles his hips up but doesn’t ever thrust. God, what did Wonshik do to deserve such an angel?

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Wonshik’s orgasm sneaks up on him. It’s like one moment he’s circling his tongue beneath the ridge of the head of Hongbin’s cock and the next his pelvis feels like it’s so tight and his cock is so warm and swollen and Hongbin’s mouth is so tight and wet, and then Wonshik is gagging and moaning around Hongbin still in his mouth.

And then Hongbin is pulling back, stroking Wonshik gently in his hand until his skin feels like it might tear from his body if Hongbin touches him any more. 

He starts to crawl away, but Hongbin grabs him by the wrist. “Where are you going?” He gestures to his cock, hard against his stomach. Hongbin takes it into his own hand and strokes slowly, eyes half-lidded and trained on Wonshik’s. “Touch me.”

Wonshik wraps his hand around Hongbin’s and slides them both up, twisting his wrist on the downstroke as Hongbin shudders and tilts his hips up. 

“Have you…”

“Perhaps a talk for another night,” Hongbin gasps out, dropping his own hand away to fist in the sheets. “Please.”

Wonshik just wants to kiss Hongbin senseless again, so he picks up the pace, with Hongbin fucking himself up into the tight grip of Wonshik’s hand as he twists it down at the same time. Hongbin bites into his lower lip to keep his noises contained, but Wonshik can hear the frantic breaths and tight guttural whimpers coming from the back of Hongbin’s throat. 

“Oh, please,” Hongbin whimpers, bucking up over and over until Wonshik tightens his grip even more, and Hongbin slaps his hands over his mouth and moans into his palms, his body arching up and shaking so beautifully that Wonshik wishes he could watch it over and over until he dies.

Maybe he can.

 

With the two of them sandwiched together in Wonshik’s cot (the one not coated in sweat and smelling of sex), Hongbin’s breath is warm against Wonshik’s throat.

“So are you going to tell me when you first started wanting to,” Wonshik trails off.

“To fuck you or kiss you?”

Wonshik groans and bites at Hongbin’s shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“I know, I’m just fucking with you,” Hongbin replies. “I don’t know. Probably always?”

Wonshik feels like they’re still just two bros in a bath house cot, zero feet apart, but he also understands what Hongbin means. What’s the difference between being best friends and being best friends who do it sometimes? Hopefully a lot of times? 

“Mm,” Wonshik hums, trying to recall the first time he looked at Hongbin and thought about sliding his tongue down Hongbin’s spine and tracing the dimples above his cute little butt. “Probably always.”

“Do you think anyone heard us?”

“The doors are made of paper,” Wonshik sighs. 

“But we were so quiet.”

“Paper,” Wonshik repeats. “That old man scented it on me. He knows. He knew before even I knew. I’m a heathen. I’m filth. I’m--”

“Just enjoying your vacation,” Hongbin finishes, pressing a kiss to Wonshik’s cheekbone. “Now let me use your arm as a pillow, and if you snore, I will throw you outside.”

“You’re lucky you’re my best friend,” Wonshik scoffs, extending his arm out under Hongbin’s neck. “And that you have exceptional but also questionably good oral skills.”

“Next time write me a song about us,” Hongbin murmurs.

“Called what? I saw my best friend’s dick in a hot tub and then we had a lil sex?”

“Oh, our CEO would love that.”

“Stop, don’t talk about him right now. I’m still basking in the afterblow-glow.”

“I’m turning the light off, so please shut up.”

Outside the room, something bangs into the gate. 

There’s a loud whispered hiss of, “We get it. You’re just two bros in love, but please go the fuck to sleep.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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